Dark Secret - Feehan Christine (библиотека книг бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

Resolutely she pressed the gas pedal down, bumping along, the springs on the seat squeaking in tune to the radio she had blasting. As hard as she tried, Colby couldn't stop herself from continually checking the rearview mirror for those merciless eyes. She had enough to worry about without seeing things. So many little things had gone wrong on the ranch lately-Pete's disappearance when she needed an extra hand so desperately, the balloon payment due on the mortgage, and the South American group showing up out of nowhere demanding the children. She swept a hand through her hair, shoving it away from her face. The wind blew the silken strands right back at her.

Something was terribly wrong at the ranch. She knew it, she felt it, but how could she make Ben understand she just knew things? Like the plane crash. She had known the moment it was in trouble. She had known the moment her mother died. She had been the one to find the wreckage, knowing her beloved stepfather was clinging to life and waiting for her. How could she explain how she knew things? How could she explain to anyone the things she could do?

For a moment wild emotion welled up out of nowhere, blindsiding her, unexpected when she was so careful to be controlled. She felt tears burning in her eyes, her throat tight, her chest like stone. Loneliness hit her hard. She was so alone, so lonely. There was no one with whom she could ever share who and what she was. Colby fought desperately to control the burning in her chest. She didn't dare lose control, wouldn't lose control. It could be dangerous, very, very dangerous.

The dirt road leading to her ranch loomed up, the gate closed and locked. She glanced around the lonely area just once, ensuring she was completely alone. Slowing the truck, Colby leaned out the window and stared intently at the pad-lock and heavy chain wrapped around the gate. It trembled once, then fell open. The gate swung inward, clearing the path for her. With her ragged fingernail she tapped a rhythm out on the rusted door as she pulled the truck forward. She leaned out of the window to concentrate on locking the gate behind her, thankful she had certain useful talents. It came in handy in the rain and on nights she was just too tired to pretend she was normal.

The wind washed over her again and she felt eyes on her. The scent of a hunter. Something, someone was out in the darkness and it had turned its attention to her. Perhaps it was the disturbance of power in the air when she used her strange talents that drew unwanted attention in her direction. Colby only knew something was very wrong, and evil stalked her family. She was the only protection Paul and Ginny had. She loved them and she would guard them fiercely. From anyone. Anything.

With a sigh she drove the rest of the distance to the ranch house. Ginny's dog, King, a border collie, rushed out barking a greeting. She rested her head against the steering wheel for a moment trying to absorb the vibrations in the night sky. What was out there, close, watching her ranch, marking her family? Why couldn't she isolate the direction it was coming from? She knew something was watching, yet she couldn't pinpoint the trouble. Colby knew things. She knew the cow in the barn was going to give birth soon and it wasn't going to be an easy birth. She knew when it was going to rain and just how long she had to get the hay out of the fields.

Patting the dog, she made her way to the porch. Paul was waiting for her, on the porch swing. His long, lanky frame was stretched out, his hat pulled low over his eyes. His arms were folded across his chest. Colby stood there looking down at him, love for him welling up inside of her. He was an amazing brother. He looked so young and vulnerable when he was asleep. Colby touched his shoulder gently.

Paul woke with a start. "I was just resting my eyes," he said, his grin lighting his face as he pushed back his hat with his thumb. He had seen the gesture in a western movie and had copied it ever since. He had been about seven and Colby didn't have the heart to remind him of its origins. In any case she found it endearing.

"Joclyn Everett is a very nice woman, Paul. I've met her husband, of course, many times, but never her. What do you think of them?"

His sigh was audible in the silence of the night. "What I think is that you told this woman you would take on her kid for riding lessons even though you are totally swamped. That's what I think, Colby."

Colby rubbed her forehead, avoiding his eyes. "Well, the girl is Ginny's age and Ginny gets very lonely."

"Colby, you can't do it. You're running yourself into the ground already. Don't you think I know you're staying up half the night already? You can't take on any more."

"They're offering good money, Paulo, and Ginny needs a friend. I thought I could spend a short period each lesson with the girl and then let Ginny take over. It shouldn't really take that much time."

Paul groaned aloud. "You really are crazy, Colby, but there's never any good arguing with you." He held open the door. "I checked the stock, made the rounds so you can hit the sack."

She flashed him a quick smile. "Thanks, Paul. I am tired tonight." She leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I appreciate it, I really do."

"I'd give you a lecture," he said, "but I kind of like Sean Everett. Since he's a neighbor, we might as well become friends with him." Colby burst out laughing, the sound soft and quite catching. Paul found himself with a big smile on his face.

"You're only saying that because you want another victim to rope into fixing our broken-down equipment."

"Are you accusing me of having an ulterior motive?" He did his best to look innocent.

Colby signaled King toward the barn. Usually the collie slept curled up on the floor of Ginny's bedroom, but Colby had been so troubled lately, she had taken to using him as a night guard. Paul watched her signal the dog, a frown on his face. "You really are worried, aren't you, Colby?"

She shrugged casually. "I just think it's better to be safe than sorry, Paulo. Ben says he thinks a bunch of kids are playing pranks."

Paul snorted his denial. "Ben always blames teenagers. What's up with that?"

Colby laughed again, filling the house with the sound of her warmth. "You should have seen him as a teenager. He was the bad boy of the school. He just thinks everyone is like he was."

Paul shook his head and opened the door to his bedroom. "I can't imagine him as a teenager. He doesn't even know how to smile. Good night, Colby, you need to actually go to bed."

She raised an eyebrow even as she hid her amusement of his authoritative tone. "Good night, Paul."

3

Colby sighed and threw back the covers. For a moment her hand lingered on the beautiful handmade quilt covering her bed. Her mother had sent away to Paris for the comforter. A very famous but elusive designer had made it. She remembered very vividly her need to have the quilt after she'd seen it advertised in a magazine. Colby had known it was something special, almost as if it possessed a power of its own. Her mother and stepfather had given it to her for her tenth birthday and Colby prized it above every other possession she had. Along with the rare beauty and unique feeling of comfort and safety it gave her, the quilt was a symbol of her parents' love for her.

She stretched languidly and wandered across the hardwood floor to her open window. The wind blew the thin lace curtains inward. She was wearing a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms and a small spaghetti-strapped top. Colby slowly unbraided her long hair as she stared out the window into the night. She loved the mountains at night, always mystical and mysterious. A veil of thin white fog shrouded the high ridges. She was surrounded by the giants, her ranch snuggled into a deep valley. She stretched out her arms to the high mountain range, lifting her face toward the shining half moon crescent.